


Coffee Stains

by Marianelona



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Cliche, First Meetings, M/M, Rage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 19:43:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3862369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marianelona/pseuds/Marianelona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee was the love of Michael's life. Then it became a certain barista.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee Stains

**Author's Note:**

> A short one-shot I wrote on the bus, forgot about, then came across whilst deleting memos from my phone. 
> 
> I seem to have a problem with locations being set at coffee shops. Oh well.

Peachy. Just peachy.

It was the cherry on the cake, the large coffee stain on his white shirt. Michael had already had the shittest day of the year, and life didn't seem content with leaving it at that. Oh no, life just had to serve Michael up a real _treat_ by giving him the dumbest barista available in this coffee house.

With every babble of an apology spoken in a thick accent, every sloppy attempt at 'cleaning' the damp shirt with a clump of tissues, Michael grew more and more frustrated, until his rage self finally surfaced in a collaboration of a harsh tone, red face, and raised veins.

"You dumb fucking piece of shit! You're making it fucking worse! Look at it!” Michael tugged at the hem of the shirt. Whereas it had once just been a simple stain, it was now a mess of smudged coffee and wet lumps of tissue. “Are you mentally fucking retarded? How many fucking brain cells does it take to get my order, make my order, then fucking give it to me?”

Despite that his surroundings had become hushed, every pair of eyes looking on in horror at the scene unfolding before them, Michael continued to spit out his anger.

“You're an asshole, you know that? Seriously, what the absolute fuck. I didn't need some dumb fucker like you to trip over his own stupid feet because you can't grasp the concept of walking, and then go pour fucking scalding coffee on me. What? Were you fucking dropped on the head as a kid or some shit? Huh? Is that your problem? Is that your fucking problem? Parents tried to toss you in the garbage 'cause they realised what a damn retarded piece of shit you'd grow up to be?”

The barista was still patting away at Michael's shirt.

“For fuck's sake! Stop already!”

The barista obliged, and took a step back, hand still holding onto the wad of tissues. He blinked at Michael.

“Fuck...” Michael muttered, brushing the pesky bits of tissue off his shirt. “You really are the stupidest shit I've ever had the joy, total _joy_ , of meeting. That's sarcasm by the way, in case you didn't get that. Which I assume you didn't, 'cause if you can't even give somebody a fucking cup of coffee without messing it up, pretty sure you don't get sarcasm.”

The anger was fading away now, though the daggers Michael was giving to the culprit of his rage didn't look to have an end in sight.

“God fucking damn it.”

He'd ran out of steam to continue belting out his hatred, but stormy eyes still dared the barista to try his hand at round two, and see where it left him.

The ordinary reactions to those being hurled abuse at were either for Michael to find himself in a slinging battle of insults (he usually won), watch as some kid ran away crying about the scary man (he liked that outcome), or to get sucker-punched in the eye (he always punched back harder). Michael thought he'd seen every possible reaction, but the barista proved him wrong.

It started with the curling of lips.

From there, it progressed upwards into a grin, and then into a colossal mess of giggles that resembled peculiar bird noises.

The barista was annoying enough to make Michael scowl at him, but endearing enough to force Michael's eyes to seek out the name on his tag, just so that he could try out the name on his tongue.

“Gavin, you fuck.”


End file.
